


First Against The Wall

by mageflower



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Oneshot, PWP, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageflower/pseuds/mageflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As PWP as it gets, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Against The Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enaidmora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enaidmora/gifts).



> Just a little thing I wrote for my dear friend [enaidmora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/enaidmora/pseuds/enaidmora), for her birthday. She convinced me to post it, so... here it is?

It had started on a case.

John had made an offhand comment, and licked his lips.

That was it. A man simply couldn’t be expected to pretend he wasn’t attracted to his flatmate when he insisted on doing things like this day after day.

Sherlock Holmes marches towards John, snatches him by his hand and hisses, “Baker Street. Now.”

One quietly desperate cab ride later, Sherlock and John are scrabbling their way up the stairs, nearly falling down once or twice, hands too preoccupied trying to remove items of clothing from each other as they ascend. They make it into 221B, and John slams the door closed, and gives Sherlock the same treatment.

“J-John. I need you,” Sherlock whimpers, before John claims his mouth with his own, and Sherlock can no longer speak, only needy sounds muffled by John.

John presses Sherlock into the wall, releasing his mouth and scattering kisses along Sherlock’s jaw. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful. What brought this on? You’ve never let on before.”

Sherlock breathes into John’s neck, and tells him, “S-since the beginning. I don’t understand you, John Watson. But I’ve always wanted you. I— I just couldn’t stop myself anymore.”

John lets go of Sherlock and steps back. “Do- do you want to move this to the bed? Yours, mine—”

  
Sherlock growls and cuts him off. “No. Here. Fuck me, now.”

  
John smirks, his eyes dark. “As you wish,” he murmurs and quickly begins releasing Sherlock from his clothing.

  
As he is being stripped, Sherlock remembers something. “John. John. Do— do you have a cond-“

  
“No, love. You wanted it now, you’re getting it now. I’m not wasting time going upstairs.” John has Sherlock naked from the waist down and decides that it’s enough. He undoes his own trousers, freeing his own erection and spits in his hand generously. “This is going to hurt a bit, Sherlock. You can handle it, I’m sure.”

  
Sherlock grunts in annoyance. “Stop your incessant chatter and fuck me, will you? Before I die of old age.”

  
A heated look passes John’s face, and John slams back into Sherlock, hiking his long legs up around John’s hips. John pushes saliva-coated fingers into Sherlock’s bare arse,  
John only dimly aware of Sherlock’s keening cries as he works him open.

  
“John. John. Now. Please, John.” Sherlock begs. His eyes meet John’s, blown dark with lust and need.

  
John spits again in his hand, and strokes up and down his cock twice. John positions himself at Sherlock’s waiting entrance, and searches Sherlock’s face for any apprehension, hesitation, fear. He sees nothing but sheer, naked lust and desire. Sherlock cries out loud as John eases into him, John murmuring reassurances and encouragement into Sherlock’s neck. “That’s it, Sherlock; that’s gorgeous, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect. Look at you, you fucking beautiful thing, you take my cock like you were made for it.”

  
“John. Shut your filthy mouth and move,” Sherlock says, trying to cope with the faint burning. John complies, beginning slowly but as Sherlock continues to accept him, making truly obscene sounds, John starts to lose control, desperately pushing back and forth into Sherlock.

  
“Christ, Sherlock— you’re, you’re good. So good. I— can’t hold on much longer.” John buries his face in Sherlock’s neck, and braces an arm against Sherlock, pinning him to the wall.

Using his free hand, he grips Sherlock’s cock and begins pumping up and down. A moan escapes Sherlock’s throat, and he tells John, “John. John, God, I’m going to come.” John quickens the pace of the hand wrapped around Sherlock’s cock.

  
“On with it then, love. Come for me. Come for me.” John growls into Sherlock’s ear, and nips at his earlobe. Sherlock comes, arse contracting around John’s cock, nearly sobbing, wet heat spilling from him, onto John’s belly. This puts John over the edge, and he only manages one or two more thrusts into Sherlock before he fills him.

  
John, overcome with the strength of his orgasm, can no longer support both him and Sherlock, and they collapse against the wall and slide to the floor. Sherlock speaks first. “John. John. Why didn’t we do that sooner?”

  
“I could maybe tell you when my head doesn’t feel like it’s filled with cotton gauze, Sherlock. Hush for a minute, love.” John closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall, regaining his breath and the use of his legs. “Look at the mess you’ve made of me. I hope you’re going to rectify that, Sherlock.”

  
Sherlock smirks at John, ulterior motives clear. “We’ve got a perfectly good shower we could make use of, if you’d like.”

John sighs. “Why do I get the feeling we won’t get any cleaner?”

Sherlock grins. “Brilliant deduction, John.”


End file.
